Chapter 4 - The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
I stared at the photograph until my eyes hurt.
My father, Vincent Moretti, had supposedly died six years earlier in a private aircraft accident over Lake Michigan.
His funeral had been attended by politicians, business leaders, and some of the wealthiest families in America.
I had identified his personal belongings.
I had signed the inheritance documents.
I had spent six years believing I was the last living member of the Moretti family.
Yet there he was.
Walking into a building with Sophia Reynolds.
"Michael," I said into the phone, "I want everything you can find on this building. Ownership, tenants, security footage, financial records. Everything."
"Already working on it."
"And don't contact Sophia."
"Understood."
I drove to the building myself.
It was an unremarkable glass tower on the northern side of Chicago. No company sign. No public reception desk. Just a security guard who immediately recognized me.
"Mr. Moretti. Can I help you?"
"I'm looking for someone."
"Do you have an appointment?"
I placed a photograph on the desk.
"Where is this man?"
The guard looked at it.
His expression changed.
"I can't discuss private visitors."
I leaned forward.
"Then let me make this easy. I own the company that leases this entire building through a subsidiary. You can either tell me where he went, or you can explain to my legal department why you're protecting someone who has been officially dead for six years."
The guard swallowed.
"Private elevator. Twenty-second floor."
I took the elevator.
When the doors opened, I found a long corridor with three offices and a conference room.
The last door was slightly open.
I heard Sophia's voice.
"Alexander has already found Claire."
Then a man's voice answered.
"That changes nothing. The children still need to remain out of his reach."
My blood turned cold.
I pushed the door open.
Sophia spun around.
The man beside her slowly stood.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he smiled.
"Hello, son."
I couldn't breathe.
"Father."
Vincent Moretti looked older, thinner, but unmistakably alive.
He had the same silver hair, the same sharp nose, and the same cold eyes I remembered from childhood.
"Sit down, Alexander."
I didn't move.
"You faked your death."
"I had my reasons."
"You let me bury an empty coffin?"
He sighed.
"Don't be dramatic."
I walked toward him.
"Why were you meeting Sophia?"
"Because she has been helping me."
"Helping you do what?"
My father glanced at Sophia.
She looked terrified.
Then he returned his attention to me.
"Prevent you from making another mistake."
I laughed bitterly.
"You mean discovering I have children?"
His expression didn't change.
"Those children are not the only reason Claire disappeared."
I slammed my hand against the desk.
"Tell me what you did."
My father finally lost his smile.
"Watch your tone."
"You're going to tell me why someone threatened my pregnant wife."
He stared at me.
Then, slowly, he sat back down.
"Because Claire was carrying more than two babies."
I froze.
"What does that mean?"
Sophia looked at him.
"Vincent, don't."
He ignored her.
"Your mother left Claire something. Something valuable. Something that could have destroyed several people, including members of this family."
I remembered the letter.
My mother's charitable foundation.
The anonymous payments.
"Where is it?"
My father smiled.
"Ask your former wife."
I stepped closer.
"What did my mother leave her?"
"Evidence."
"Of what?"
"Fraud. Money laundering. Illegal acquisitions. And a collection of documents connecting my companies to people who were never supposed to be connected to them."
I stared at him.
"My mother would never have been involved in anything illegal."
"Your mother wasn't involved. She discovered it."
He opened a drawer and removed a photograph.
It showed Claire standing outside a hospital, holding a folder.
Beside her was a younger woman I recognized from our wedding photographs.
My mother.
I took the picture.
"Where did you get this?"
"From Sophia."
I turned toward her.
"Why do you have photographs of my wife?"
Sophia looked down.
"Alexander, I can explain."
"Then explain."
She swallowed.
"Vincent contacted me shortly after I returned to Chicago. He told me your marriage was already over emotionally. He said Claire was planning to leave anyway."
"And you believed him?"
"I wanted to believe him."
The admission was quiet.
But it was enough.
My father stood.
"Sophia understood that you needed someone who could stand beside you without constantly demanding something from you."
I looked at him.
"Claire never demanded anything."
"She wanted children."
My father said it as if that alone were an unforgivable offense.
"She wanted a family. She wanted a husband who would come home. She wanted to be part of your life."
I stepped closer.
"And you decided that was dangerous?"
"She was going to expose information that could destroy this family."
"She was my wife!"
"Exactly."
The room went silent.
My father looked at me with something resembling disappointment.
"You're still confusing affection with loyalty, Alexander. It is the mistake that ruined your mother."
I felt sick.
"What did you do to her?"
His expression hardened.
"Your mother died of a heart condition."
"That's what the doctors said."
"Then why are you asking?"
Because for the first time, I wasn't sure I believed anything he said.
I turned toward Sophia.
"How long have you known he was alive?"
She began crying.
"Two years."
Two years.
The same period when Claire had been raising our twins alone.
"You knew about the children?"
Sophia shook her head.
"Not at first."
"When?"
"Last year."
I stared at her.
"And you said nothing?"
"Vincent told me Claire had deliberately kept them away from you. He said telling you would only create problems."
"Did you believe that?"
She didn't answer.
I understood then.
Sophia hadn't returned to my life because she loved me.
She had returned because someone had opened the door for her.
And I had been arrogant enough to walk through it.
I headed toward the exit.
"Alexander!" my father called.
I stopped.
"If you pursue this, you'll lose everything."
I turned.
"I've already lost the only things that mattered."
He laughed.
"Then perhaps you should be grateful I helped you get rid of them."
I walked out without another word.
But before I reached the elevator, my phone rang.
It was Daniel Hayes.
"Alexander, you need to come to the hospital."
My stomach tightened.
"Why?"
"Emma collapsed."
The elevator doors opened.
"What's wrong with her?"
Daniel's voice cracked.
"We don't know yet. Claire is here, and the doctors are running tests."
I ran.
For the first time in my life, I wasn't racing to protect my money, my company, or my reputation.
May you like
I was racing toward my daughter.
And I was terrified I might arrive too late.
